


Whet

by pauraque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Fanwork of Fanwork, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-29
Updated: 2005-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no closure for the good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whet

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Evelia's art piece [Wet](http://kaptainsnot.livejournal.com/55216.html) (worksafe).

Harry waits in the motel room for hours, the rain patter-tapping insistently on the metal roof. He's half-hypnotised by it, and almost doesn't hear when Snape comes knocking at the door.

Snape's robes are wet from the rain, his black hood hanging down around his face like a half-drowned Dementor. Harry holds the door and steps back awkwardly to let him in. Snape looks past Harry, keeping his face turned away, and goes the few steps to the loo, letting the robes fall from his shoulders and heavily onto the floor. He lurches as though he's going to fall, but grasps the door frame in time.

Harry shuts the door, shuts out the cold wet air and the orange glow of the car park, and the room is dark and quiet again. Now he hears it: Snape's breath, rasping in his chest like something's damp down the wrong pipe.

The carpet is soft-padded under Harry's bare feet, but the flooring underneath feels light and cheap, like he might fall through. He sidles over to the bed and sits down carefully, tense hands on the edge of the mattress. Snape gasps another breath and fumbles for the switch, and the sudden light makes Harry cringe.

The sodden robes are soaking rain water into the carpet, and making the tiles of the bathroom slick. The water has a reddish tint, and Harry's toes curl against the carpet.

Snape gets down on his knees, and Harry uncomfortably wonders if he's going to be sick. Thinks about what it would be like to hold his head while he retched — to be that kind of person for him. Instead, Snape leans on the closed toilet seat and puts his forehead in his hands.

He's framed in the doorway like a portrait, or a cell. The stark halogen light makes a bright path out into the dark room, past the bloodsoaked robes, over the carpet. And ending at Harry's feet.

Snape slowly turns and looks at him through strands of hair, his propped-up hands curved and empty.

This time it's Harry who doesn't meet his eyes.


End file.
